


What happens in the closet doesn't always stay there

by DoubleNegative



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Closet Sex, Crack, F/M, Making Out, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:43:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3729373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleNegative/pseuds/DoubleNegative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written at mydwynter and emmagrant01's flash fiction workshop at 221B Con 2015. My random prompts were "Molly, Anderson, frottage, France, and 'you're mad.'"</p>
            </blockquote>





	What happens in the closet doesn't always stay there

“You’re mad,” Anderson said.

“Yes,” Molly said, pulling the closet door shut behind them. “Now shut up.”

“At me,” he continued, flipping on the light switch just inside the door.

She flipped it back off again. “Yes. _Shut up_.”

“I just don’t–” he began, voice going nasal even as he pushed the lab coat off her shoulders.

“Fuck’s sake,” she breathed, yanking him in by the shirt front and bringing their mouths together hard. Well, it shut him up, at any rate.

She hadn’t wanted to kiss him, really. It seemed silly, in _Pretty Woman_ , the no kissing rule, but she understood now. Kissing was intimate, and intimacy wasn’t really Molly’s top priority just now.

Still, he wasn’t a bad kisser, and the height was right. She tilted her head back a little further, threaded her fingers through the hair at his nape and pretended she could feel it curling beneath her palm.

He made a little sound against her mouth, and she nipped at his lower lip, none too gently. She couldn’t let him start talking again. This was a stretch already; his voice would ruin everything. (And God knew what _she’d_ say, if she didn’t keep her own mouth occupied.)

He got bold then, slid one hand from her waist to her breast, and she pressed herself against him, encouraging. Another shift, and he had one thigh between her legs. And oh, that was-- that was _just_ right. Perhaps she should give him more credit…

It got better from there, if a little more… involved than she’d really planned. Nothing she’d repeat, of course, but-- it was nearly good enough to make up for the shock, a day later, of finding her own cherry-patterned knickers pinned to the lab bulletin board, a note beneath:

> _We’re in London,_
> 
> _Not in France,_
> 
> _And someone’s lost her underpants._

She made sure the security camera was pointed away, before she rescued them.

**Author's Note:**

> This should probably be titled "What happens at the con doesn't always stay there."
> 
> I'm always nervous writing to prompts, but this exercise turned out to be a lot of fun. I'm not saying you're going to see more Mollerson (Manderson? Anderolly?) from me, but I think this is something I ought to try more. Getting kicked out of my comfort zone is probably a good thing now and then.


End file.
